This month, two of my favorite shows of all time, "Dexter" and "Breaking Bad", aired their final episodes. Finito. Felina. However you want to say it. For better or for worse, they are gone and aren't coming back (despite the fact that AMC currently has plans for a prequel spin-off of BB concerning Bob Odenkirk's character, Saul Goodman). I'm currently going through a swirl of emotions, ranging from sadness, to elation, and disappointment.
I guess you can call this a disconstruction, of sorts. I'm going to delve a little deeper into what happened and whether or not it worked.
Both shows, oddly enough, revolve around antiheroes who do despicable things, and yet we root for them. Dexter is a serial killer, but he only kills those who 'deserve' it; Walter White is a meth dealer, who kills people and destroys other people's lives, but he's trying to provide for his family (at least at first, a notion which is going to be challenged by the end).
Expectations, at least on my part, were sky-high for both of these finales, and in my opinion, one failed where the other succeeded. Let's start with Dexter: this ending does not work.
Part of the problem here is that Dexter, for a long time, has been staffed by some hack writers and producers. But it was still entertaining, and still told a compelling story that promised a thrilling conclusion. The other issue is that over its 8 season run, Dexter underwent a series of managerial changes, with 'showrunners' and executive producers revolving in and out. Thus it does not reflect the vision of a single storyteller with a single purpose. They had to make shit up, write their way into and out of corners, and in many cases, come up with shitty gimmicks to keep the show going. The decision to end it now, this year, was a good one (partly because the show jumped the shark way back in 2009), and this season was actually pretty decent. They upped the stakes for Dex by compounding his relationship with his sister and introducing a new character from his past that knows who he truly is.
By the final two episodes, a storm (both literal and figurative) is rocketing towards Miami, threatening to undo the lives of the main characters. The stage was set for a final shocking revelation (something the writers are actually reasonably skilled at concocting). Instead, the result was a rushed, ham-fisted conclusion that left many viewers feeling pissed off and cheated. Deb is dead, and Dexter is working as a lumberjack in some unknown new locale, presumably dealing with the mess his life has become. His son and girlfriend are living in South America, presumably living happy, productive lives (minus a father).
What went wrong? If you look at the events leading up to the final episode, "Remember the Monsters?", the writers actually did try to squeeze some hints in there as to what was to come, and would allow the final decisions and fates of the characters feel organic. The entire time Dexter has been planning his escape with Hannah, he has been constantly reminded (both literally and figuratively) that it will not be possible to juggle the lives he is trying to present, that he cannot have his cake and eat it too. He must make a decision, while simultaneously trying to escape his bloody past and turn over a new leaf as a new, real, non-serial killer human being.
The viewer should know better, and so should Dex. So that's not the result we're given. Good. That makes sense. Even Deb's death could be viewed as a result of Dexter trying to juggle the two diametrically opposed aspects of his newly emerging personality.
Ultimately, the problem boils down to shitty writing and poor pacing. Within a matter of what feels like minutes, Dexter begins making huge decisions with huge ramifications with seemingly little forethought. The decisions do not feel organic. He pulls the plug on Deb (which I'm still not entirely sure why...but whatever, she had to die anyway), fakes his own death and leaves his son stranded with Hannah. To add insult to injury, the viewer is treated with a final shot of a confused, bearded man we once recognized as America's Favorite Serial Killer. The image should be poignant, resonating with meaning. But it isn't. The writing needed to pull off these huge character transformations was absent, so we, the viewer, don't buy into the arc created and ultimately disconnect from the story. The driving factor in Dexter's storytelling, for a long time, has been his interior monologuing, which gives us a glimpse inside the mind of a character we otherwise wouldn't stand a chance of understanding because he's so unlike any human being any of us have ever met. This form of directly addressing the audience should have more clearly revealed Dexter's intentions, and more importantly, why he was making those decisions, why they were necessary, in those final moments. Instead Michael C. Hall's stale lines penned by hacks offer up no satisfying resolution, merely a narration of what we're watching with no guidance as to why.
I've heard some critics decry the finale of Dexter as "a disaster," and although I don't think it was quite that bad, it was extremely disappointing. He deserved a better send-off.
Now, let's contrast that with the end of Breaking Bad, which was, in my opinion, nearly perfect.
Breaking Bad is, without a doubt, the best television show I've ever watched, and probably one of the best dramas in TV history. The expectations from the public at large were stacked, and the pressure to deliver must have been unbearable for the creators--it was Vince Gilligan's game to lose. Maintaining the level of quality all the way up to the end is a feat in and of itself; the fact that it also worked so naturally is a testament to the genius of the people involved.
Walter, disgraced and living alone in New Hampshire, realizes he has one more play up his sleeve, his final chance at redemption. He travels back to Albuquerque, coerces his former partners-in-science to set up a trust fund for his son (thus performing the impossible, as it seemed up until now that all his work had been for naught), then eliminates everyone remaining in the meth empire he helped create, freeing his family from the clutches of assassins and the DEA, and freeing Jesse from the confines of his prison. Old, tired, weary, bleeding from the gut, Walter finally collapses in the lab in the desert as the cops roll in.
This image resonates with us because every action that he takes, and every scene that unfolds in this final episode, is a logical result of everything that has come before. There are no revelatory twists, no punches pulled by the writer (who, it is important to note, is also the show's creator and has been in control since the beginning), because that would be unfair. It would be unfair to the rules that this universe Gilligan created revolves around: choices have consequences, the good guys don't always win, there are no happy endings. The fight for ultimate control, as displayed by both Walter and his brother-in-law Hank, will be your undoing. Although every hanging plot thread was ostensibly wrapped up by the final scene, the genius here is that everything is not fine, all is not well, and it can't be. Skyler and Flynn are never going to be able to shake what has happened to them, just as Jesse will not. Walter became, enjoyed being, and ultimately died as a monster. This is beautifully revealed in the scene with him and Skyler in the kitchen when he tells her (as the audience by now should already know) "I did it for me." It stands to reason, therefore, that this journey should end where it began: with methamphetamine. Most writers attempt to create an 'arc' for their characters, if they're deep and complex enough. Walter White, however, was so perfectly rendered in this show, that his arc almost more closely resembles a circle. He is perfectly round.
I've heard some people complain that the end of Breaking Bad was boring, too predictable, not enough 'slam-bang.' What these people fail to comprehend is that this show ended the way it did because it had to. To attempt anything more would have been disingenuous. The events of this series, although certainly larger-than-life and hard to believe, have always been so engaging and compelling, from the very start, because they arose organically from the choices and consequences of frighteningly realistic characters. This is what real drama is all about. Breaking Bad nailed it.
The only thing to be upset about here is the realization that a show like Breaking Bad is not likely to come around again this generation. I count myself lucky that I've been on board since the beginning and got to experience the birth, growth, and end of a cultural phenomenon.
Anyway, I could go on and on here, so to avoid the risk of sounding repetitive, I'll end it here. I've gotten (most of) it off my chest.
